


[incomplete] 'til thou wert weary of idolatry

by Aslee



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Mr. Ceiling, Pre-Slash, The Paris Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aslee/pseuds/Aslee
Summary: "Don't make fun of me," Hamid said, and Zolf could hear the pout in the tenor of Hamid' s voice. Before Zolf could clear his affront, though, Hamid continued: "I'm only worried about you, Zolf.""Yes. Yes, Iknow, but I don't need to be worried over," Zolf groused. "I was doing just fine before. And don't--" Zolf closed his eyes, something that tasted like weakness overpowering his words. "Don't say you do need to, actually, because I will find those prosthetics and beat you with them."





	[incomplete] 'til thou wert weary of idolatry

**Author's Note:**

> hey! i'm cleaning out my wips and wanted to finally post this thing that's been sitting on my drive for 400 years. i never completed it because the show moved on from the paris arc (and zolf left) before i could really find time. when i think about the fact that i was working 70 hrs a week when i started this fic, i wonder that i wrote any of it at all!! fear not, faithful zolf/hamid fans, i will absolutely be writing some more post-zolf removal fic FOR YOUR SPECIFIC ENJOYMENT. 
> 
> (including some hamid-has-trouble-unbecoming-a-weredragon fic and some post-canon fic mayhaps??????) 
> 
> anyway, one does not simply invent a ship, get it mentioned on podcast, and then abandon ship over something as silly as a character being written off. i'm going down with this one, boys. anyhow, enjoy this small piece of writing. i'll see you on the other side of nanowrimo.

The water was cold.

It was a sign of just how far Zolf had fell that it registered as an annoyance at all. A sailor and a pirate and now an adventurer, he had faced the worst of what the sea had to offer him and survived. He was a cleric of Poseidon, for the love of Triton's barnacle'd nips, and he'd been through the many trials set before him. Two weeks ago he'd nearly drowned crossing the channel, and cold had been the last thing on his mind. 

Then again, he'd also had a leg two weeks ago. It had been just the one, but that had counted for more than he'd given it credit for. 

Now he was slowly starting to chill in tepid water in the most prestigious hotel in all of Paris, legless, aimless, and without a idea of how his life had gotten to this point. There had never been an agreement to all of this nonsense. Zolf had planned on an auspicious start to the London Rangers (they were still working on the name) as mercenary agents of the Meritocrats, yes, but he had rather thought it would be more of a whirlwind trip around the world, ferreting out clues and fighting grand wizards. Ancient catacombs were supposed to house undead creatures and similarly ancient secrets, not amoral machines carefully managing the whole world.

Saving the world hadn't exactly been in the contract, but they had done it anyway, because Zolf had been an idiot and his friends-- Hamid and Sasha, anyway --were so, so good. 

The ache in his bones was a punishment for his sins, Zolf had decided, but it didn't make getting out of the tub any easier. 

He'd tried to, five minutes ago, but the flesh around his ports was too sensitive to get a lot of leverage against the bottom of the tub, and the sorrow had melded with the cold to make his bones rattle as he tried to lift himself out. So he'd lowered himself back into the water and told himself to bide his time until he got up the strength to try again. 

Twenty staff members below him at his beck and call, two friends and an employee just a room away, and Zolf couldn't get out of the fucking tub. He wasn't calling for help. He wasn't. 

Help called for him. 

"Zolf?"

The soft, nervous way Hamid said his name had always sent a shiver of regret down Zolf's spine, but now in the supposed silence of the bath, it jolted Zolf guiltily out of his own sorrows and into reality. He turned quickly towards the door, water sloshing around his waist. The door was ajar, preserving most of his dignity, but one brown eye did peek through the crack. 

"Hamid," he said, voice cracking in embarrassment. "What are you--" 

"Sorry. Sorry!" The crack shrunk as if reacting to Hamid's shame. "I didn't think-- I mean, you were in there a really long time, Zolf, and I honestly thought maybe you were just doing a Poseidon thing and still had clothes on." 

"Yes, well... Obviously, I don't." 

"Em, right." 

Even the quiet sounded heavy on the tile as they sat there for a moment, just Zolf and the big brown eye. Uncomfortable silences weren't something the Rangers were exactly prone to. Uncomfortable ramblings, yes, especially from Hamid and Sasha, but silence wasn't exactly their specialty. Apart from their babblers, they also had to deal with one very shouty priest and a pretentious knight, so any awkwardness on their part was as loud as their comfortability was. Which was to say: Extremely. 

"Is there something you wanted, Hamid?" And maybe they had all spent too much time together, because Zolf could hear his voice getting higher and higher with stress and embarrassment, something he was sure he hadn't done before meeting Hamid al-Tahan, the King of Squeaky Anxiety. 

"Right, sorry, I just-- I wanted to see if you were alright. Do you need anything?" 

Zolf tried not to let the question frustrate him. He knew Hamid meant well; There wasn't a malicious bone in the halfling's body. But while Sasha and Bertie had merely ignored Zolf's new handicap completely, Hamid had been treating Zolf with kid gloves, those wide eyes following him around the hotel room like a worried mother's. The reassurances and frantic questions had been nonstop, and Zolf knew it came from a good place. He knew it did, no matter how many disappointed looks Sasha gave him, alright? Hamid was a good man, and he wanted to take care of his team. Intellectually, Zolf knew there was nothing wrong with that. 

The problem was that there was nothing intellectual about pride. Zolf was a cleric of Poseidon, an ex-naval officer and pirate, and the leader of one of the most important mercenary bands in the world. He was, technically, still Hamid's (and Sasha's, and Bertie's) boss. He'd lived through trials both spiritual and literal, survived swarms of botanical nightmares, and had handled losing the first leg just fine. Hades below, he had done most of that without the leg. There was an intense shame in the idea that now he needed Hamid's constant attention now that he'd lost the second. What was he supposed to say, 'yes, Hamid, I've just discovered I can't get out of the bath without assistance, could you please come help me and also deal with the awkward humiliation of seeing my wrecked naked form?' 

By Zeus and all his whores, Zolf would rather ask Bertie for help than see pity in Hamid's eyes again. 

"Please tell me you haven't drowned yourself in there. I honestly don't know _what_ I'd tell the staff." 

Zolf's head dropped back as a dry, shaky laugh escaped him. Hamid unfiltered was more and more of a treat every day. "Gods. Don't ever change, Hamid." 

"Don't make fun of me," Hamid said, and Zolf could hear the pout in the tenor of Hamid' s voice. Before Zolf could clear his affront, though, Hamid continued: "I'm only worried about you, Zolf." 

"Yes. Yes, I _know_ , but I don't need to be worried over," Zolf groused. "I was doing just fine before. And don't--" Zolf closed his eyes, something that tasted like weakness overpowering his words. "Don't say you do need to, actually, because I will find those prosthetics and beat you with them." 

Hamid's voice burned back, caustic. "Stop being ridiculous, Zolf. I'm worried about you because I care about you. _Sasha_ is worried because she cares about you! Bertie--" A pause. "Well, Bertie cares about himself, mostly. But the point is, the only one worried about your bloody leg is you!" 

Suddenly, Zolf was colder than the water around him. "Oh, so that's how you 'care' about someone, is it?" 

"Oh, you know that's not what I--" But Hamid cut himself off, and when his voice returned, all the fire was gone. "I'm coming in, this is ridiculous." 

"What? No, Hamid, don't--" 

Hamid was a rumpled mess the likes Zolf had never truly thought Hamid had the capability to be. He'd seen the halfling covered in several "mystery" fluids, half-drowned, and, basically, utterly wrecked, but Hamid had never looked quite as strung out as he did now. There was a sickly ashen cast to his skin, like someone had covered his deep complexion in thin powder. His eyeliner had smeared itself across his face and sleeves-- It was the clothes that disturbed Zolf the most; It looked like Hamid hadn't changed in days. 

That thought was so absurd that guilt started to settle in Zolf's chest. 

Which was _not on_ , honestly. Zolf didn't owe Hamid anything, and if he came in looking for an apology, Zolf was going to fry his fucking-- 

"I'm sorry," Hamid said softly. 

Oh. 

"Hamid…" 

"No, really, Zolf. It came out wrong, and I shouldn't have even gone there. I know that." Hamid's huge brown eyes stared down at him, wet with tears. Zolf squirmed. " I'm _really_ sorry." 

Zolf's indignation began to crumble. "No, you were right." 

"Don't. Don't." Anger flashed in Hamid's eyes, but somehow he only looked wounded, as if Zolf's reassurance had torn him apart somehow. "You're allowed to be upset, Zolf. I won't ask you not to be upset with me, or Poseidon, or the world. You're allowed to be absolutely furious. It was awful, what happened to you and Sasha, truly awful. And the last thing I ever want to do is make you think you're overreacting, or that you can't… talk to me." 

Zolf's throat clicked as he swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "Thank you?" 

"I was just trying to let you know that I… I mean, Sasha and I, really-- We care about you." 

Zolf offered a crooked smile, trying not to collapse immediately into tears like some kind of… Hamid. 

"Even if I'm a legless lump?" 

Even though there were still tears in his eyes, Hamid's smile was the most genuine Zolf had seen in days. Weeks, maybe. "You'd still be the legless lump that saved us. You took us in, even though Sasha had a bounty on her head, even though I was a useless public school magician. And then, Zolf, you gave us a purpose. Made us-- Made _me_ something worthwhile." 

Tears and laughter were starting to mix at the back of Zolf's throat; If he laughed, he would start blubbering like a baby. He was stuck. Couldn't make a joke, couldn't say anything to break the tension. 

They just stared at each other, nervous, for a moment: Zolf, trying desperately to send all his gratitude through telepathy, and Hamid, pretending not to expect any of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> WHOOPS WHAT A BAD PLACE TO LEAVE IT 
> 
> MY BAD
> 
> come yell at me @ grandwretch or @aracialasalle on tumblr


End file.
